My Corona Story

My sojourn to Mumbai this time was caused by a purpose. My niece was to register her marriage in a court there. How could I not join in? After all, it was a prologue to solemnization of marriage. A foray into bonding forever.

Caring a fig for the scary "C", notwithstanding health hazards, I took the plunge. It was not the worst of times. Yet, it was not the best of times. Mumbai, by that time, had reported quite a number of cases. The adverse impact was palpable.

Roads were empty, malls bore a deserted look. Shelves in shops, provision stores were empty. In their desperate bid to hoard provisions, people had been at their selfish best. Self-quarantine and strict monitoring had spelled wonders and people had to shut themselves indoors.

Having come to Mumbai, after. . . say about two decades and not picking anything, not even a modest souvenir, could be absolutely ridiculous. . . at least I felt so.

Looking at the leaner version of traffic at Mumbai, I got tempted to step out. With mask, gloves, and scarf on, I marched like a soldier, till I found an auto. . . a few yards away. The driver was old, haggard, had no mask, only a kerchief around his neck. He coughed when i was about to board. I retraced my steps and yelled at him" Bhaisaab, mask pehna karo. Don't you see the display boards . . . and can't you hear the loudspeakers ranting the same mantra since last few days?"

"Yes mam, I was inhaling some fresh air. Wearing masks since morning feels awkward, so I took them off. See. . . they are in my pocket. "

"I cannot now take a risk since you coughed. Sorry. " 

I took another rickshaw to reach the nearest shopping arcade. Google guided me to Hiranandani (Do not know actually, if I have spelled it correctly) and I obeyed like a pet. BMC by then had started rigorous follow up for the closure of shops and establishments. I hurried to get into a less crowded shop, with the scare hanging like a sword on top.

The shop had a few people inside. All were masked, I could be privy to different shapes, sizes and genres of masks and thought, back in my hometown I would have been deprived.

 A few display items were there like toys, notebooks, stickers,pens, cards and a few fancy storage boxes. I found the stickers cute and purchased two packets. By the time i was done, rest of the displayed items were brought inside for stacking up.

I hopped to another shop, to get some snacks for the evening. The nearest shop had seven samosas left in the tray. I asked to pack them before anyone could grab. It felt like winning a race per se. "Madam, should I pack both chutneys along with?"

"Both?"

"Yes, mam, we offer one teekha-mintwala and one meetha-gurwala. Samosa tastes awesome with these. "

"O. k"

 Much relieved I was, after the offer, as I am used to have samosas at Rs5/= per piece. The price here was four times. By then, my greater sense prevailed upon and I muttered "yeh hai Mumbai meri jaan. " 

As I crossed the road to get a rickshaw, I saw a florist's shop. The stock had depleted entirely. A bunch of white roses remained the only saving grace. I picked them up at half the original price, benefiting us both-I wanted to greet the newlyweds and the florist would not have got another seller. Well, that verged on mutual benefit lines.

The auto wala this time was abreast of precautions pertaining to Corona. He seemed confident with his mask and gloves on. As he put the meter down for the onward journey, I glanced both sides to get the feel of curfew/lockdown/isolation. The hustling bustling economic capital of the country was literally in a state of slumber. I kept my grip tight on my possessions as the destination was approaching.

I asked the driver to keep the change as he was struggling to get the exact amount. It felt really nice to experience a bit of "joy of giving". As I disembarked with a "thank you " note from the driver, I smiled and was happy for inching closer to the simple pleasures of life.

After all-something is always better than nothing. My whole purpose of going out and shopping blossomed and bore fruits when everyone gulped samosas and not so bright bunch of flowers greeted the newlyweds. The stickers I kept for my daughter at home.